


i will jump right over into cold cold water for you

by blindbatalex



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Mutual Pining, SO, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, but these idiots don't know that do they, love that is very much so requited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Between the two of them terrible decisions, or decisions that seem great in the moment and later turn out to have terrible consequences are almost exclusively Brad’s domain, so his surprise is understandable when Bergy shows up at his door one sunny November afternoon, soaked from head to toe and shivering violently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluejay141519](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluejay141519/gifts).



> Okay I am still squeeing over that companion fic, you seem to like bed sharing (aka my favorite trope) so consider this a proper thank you!

Between the two of them terrible decisions, or decisions that seem great in the moment and later turn out to have terrible consequences are almost exclusively Brad’s domain, so his surprise is understandable when Bergy shows up at his door one sunny November afternoon, soaked from head to toe and shivering violently.

“Bro what on earth-” 

There is a small pool already formed by Bergy's feet where he stands, his hair is slicked to his forehead and water drops cling even to his gorgeous eyelashes. His arms are crossed at his chest over his soaked winter coat in a semi-successful attempt to keep them from shaking.

“I jumped-” Bergy starts before the words get lost in the chattering of his teeth. He gestures inside with a shaky finger. “Can I-?”

Brad steps aside as if struck by lightning at the realization that he has been keeping Bergy waiting at the door in his current state.

He mutters a heartfelt _fuck_ as he follows inside after Bergy, his mind on what needs to be done now that he is no longer frozen with shock. Bergy needs dry clothes first and they need to warm him up and check for hypothermia. 

He tells Bergy to follow him upstairs, takes on the stairs two at a time and digs the necessary items from his drawers from new underwear to fuzzy socks with lightning speed. Bergy - being Bergy - refuses help taking off his clothes even if he is shaking and at some point it occurs to Brad he should step outside to let him strip out of his underwear in peace.

He goes downstairs to make a hot water bag and cocoa and to turn the thermostat all the way up. By the time he returns Bergy has already burrowed under the covers in Brad's bed. The comforter is pulled all the way up to his nose though he sneaks out a disembodied hand to take the water bag. 

There is a little more life to his voice as he thanks Brad but - being Bergy - he scoffs at the thermometer, claiming that he is fine, eyes already on the hot cocoa. 

“Nuh uh.” 

Brad holds the coveted item just out of reach. 

Bergy’s beautiful brown eyes go wide at that with need and despair and Brad hates denying him anything under the sun in his power to give but- He also needs to know if he should take Bergy to a hospital. 

“We are taking your temperature or no cocoa for you.” he tells Bergy firmly, “Now open up.”

Thankfully Bergy obliges without testing the true limits of Brad’s will and thankfully his body temperature is on the lower limit of acceptable.

Brad exhales with relief as he exchanges the thermometer for the mug. 

Bergy is settled in dry clothes and with a hot beverage, doesn’t need medical attention- he is fine, heart trying to break out of Brad’s ribcage with concern or not. 

“You fucking scared me,” he says, still standing by the bed.

“I told you I was fine,” Bergy replies gruffly through chattering teeth, fingers curled tight around Brad’s mug like an infinitely prettier Gollum with his Precious.

He still looks pale and half-frozen. Brad didn’t know it was possible to disappear so completely under blankets while sitting up.

There is of course one more thing he could do to help warm Bergy up, and Bergy is already in _his_ bed but-

“Do you uh- would body heat help?” he asks after a moment, hates how high pitched his voice goes at the end. 

Brad may or may not have a thing for his Alternate. It may or may not be highly inappropriate to take advantage of Bergy’s current predicament to serve his own purposes. Also he may or may not be blushing like a teenager who has just asked his crush to the prom and there is no ‘may’ about how obvious it must be to anyone with sight and damn him he is better than this-

“Yes. Please.”

“Alright,” Brad says, determined not to make it weird. They are linemates after all and friends beyond that and friends look after each other.

Bergy downs the rest of his hot cocoa in one go and scoots over. In the short moment between Bergy taking off his sweatshirt and retreating back under the covers, Brad realizes with great regret that he picked his battered Nose Faced Killah shirt in the haste of the moment; it is two sizes too small for Bergy, serves to highlight every muscle in his toned upper body and _fuck_.

Once in bed, it takes a hot second to figure out what position works the best but in the end they settle on lying facing each other with Bergy’s forehead against Brad’s chest and Brad’s arm wrapped around his middle. From a level of cold Brad can only fathom Bergy all but glues himself to him like a hairless koala, snuggling against Brad so hard that there is not a single inch between their bodies. His breath comes in quick and hot against Brad’s collarbone. 

Brad wills himself to think about Zee naked, and when that doesn’t work - Zee is _ripped_ as fuck - his parents naked because if he gets a hard-on now, yeah he is fucked.

“Anything else I can do to help warm you up?” Brad asks, moving onto the ultimate mental cockblock, i.e. fucking a naked Coach Julien.

“I want to- I kind of want to sneak my hands under your t-shirt because they are freezing,” Bergy replies before he adds with self awareness, “but nope that sounded super weird.”

Brad would like to claim it is brotherly love and not want that possesses him to tell Bergy to go for it. 

He regrets it a few seconds later when two hands, ice cold and calloused, settle on his side and abs. It sends a shiver down his spine when they rub against his skin - imperceptibly and only for warmth, he knows this - and heaven help him because in his head even Coach Julien is beginning to look like he could get it right now. 

“So,” he asks, past the tightness at the back of his throat, “why exactly did you decide to take a dip in the harbor on this fine November afternoon?”

Bergy chuckles lightly and it bubbles against Brad's chest. “You always do tell me to be more spontaneous. But- I was hanging out by the water when a family's terrier slipped and fell in chasing after her ball. She was a little smaller than Wilson- couldn't climb out.”

And of course Bergy - being Bergy - probably didn't even think before jumping in to save the little guy’s life. That's his best friend right there, the best man he knows. 

There is another detail that his brain latches onto however and he pursues it with vigor because anything to keep the conversation going and his cock distracted right?

“What were you doing by the harbor in this weather in the first place?”

It is way too cold to chill and Brad didn't even know Bergy was in the area. Bergy always tells him if he is in the area - or so Brad thought.

Bergy takes in a sharp breath at that, utters a pregnant ‘ah’. He has never been particularly good at lying when he isn't talking to media and-

Brad nudges him with his foot because there definitely is a story here. 

“I was...going to come visit you,” Bergy continues, still cagey as fuck, “just- needed to get some fresh air first.”

If Brad was a less petty person he would let Bergy have this one and recover in peace. 

Alas.

“We could have gone together if you told me.” 

Bergy takes in another deep breath and rests his forehead squarely against Brad's chest, preparing himself. For a brief and horrifying moment Brad thinks Bergy will tell him he is dying or retiring and moving back to Quebec at the end of the season. He would die rather than let either happen.

“I lost a bet to Krech over the World Series.”

That’s- okay Brad can work with that.

“World Series was in October though?”

Bergy laughs, mirthless and hollow now, tells him that’s exactly what Krech said.

Which brings them to what exactly this bet was.

“Might as well tell you,” Bergy says, media training in full blow now and his voice diplomatic and impossible to read. “The payment was to kiss you.”

It hits Brad like a truck. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting and he never had any delusions about how impossible his feelings were, knew they were one-sided, but- does it really take a month to work yourself up to give him one meager kiss?

“If you told me,” Brad says, swallowing past a knot in his throat, “we would have faked it and told Krech it was done. I wouldn't have slipped in any tongue.”

 _Am I that repulsive?_ he doesn’t ask.

He hoped Bergy would have trusted him with that much at least; hopes now that Bergy can't feel the way his heart clenches in his chest physical as the pain is. 

Bergy is silent for a moment and Brad hates how Bergy’s hands are still holding him underneath Brad's t-shirt, how close and so fucking soft he is in Brad’s arms when this is out of nothing but necessity - when he would clearly be anywhere else in the world than here right now.

“See the thing is,” Bergy says eventually, voice quivering just a little whether from the cold or something else. “I had to decide whether I kissed you because I lost a bet or because- if I came here and kissed you because- whether-” 

He trails off on an exhale and it takes Brad a few seconds to process what Bergy is saying, the possibility that he was wrong about-

Well, about everything. 

“So uh I know I made it heavy but you are my main source of heat right now so could we- could you pretend I didn't say any of that and stay?”

Bergy sounds hesitant, pleading almost. And it occurs to Brad, as certain as sunlight that breaks through heavy cloud cover after rain-

“You stupid, stupid man,” Brad says, his heart clenching in his chest for a completely different reason now. “You like me.”

It doesn't go over quite as he intended. Bergy removes his hands, draws back, and fucking apologizes. 

“I am sorry,” he says, “this was not at all how I intended to tell you and- I thought maybe- there was something there but- our friendship matters to me more than anything, nothing needs to change and I know how to deal with my feelings; I have...for a while now.” He laughs. “Shit I am making it worse the more I speak aren’t I.”

“Bergy.”

Bergy looks up at him at that, hair still damp, teeth still lightly chattering and with more desperate, defiant hope in his eyes than Brad has ever seen off the rink.

Brad could tell him in words he supposes. 

He could tell him how much effort he put into taking his feelings and folding them in on themselves until they would fit in a vault deep within his heart, how they flared up every time they both ended up single anyways - every time Bergy ran into his arms after a goal they set up together. 

He supposes he will take Bergy’s hand and tell him all of it too and soon.

But for now he places a hand on Bergy’s cheek, runs his index finger against his exquisite stubble. Bergy frowns just slightly, as if asking for him to stop without words and for him to never do, as if he can’t believe what Brad is saying either.

*

Bergy's lips are surprisingly warm when Brad closes the distance between the two of them, hesitant at first, before they melt into the kiss. His hands slide right back under Brad's t-shirt - this time only partially for heat - and this time Brad has no reason to bite back a moan when they run across the expanse of his back. 

He climbs on top of Bergy, straddling him against the bed, and draws the comforter up on top of him even though it feels like a million degrees under it - he is too happy and too gone to care.

Bergy looks dishevelled and pink and pretty when they break to catch their breaths and even as he looks at Brad with eyes dark with want, he explains that he can't take off his clothes right now. 

Brad means to tell him that he is beyond the fucking moon with first base, he really does, but ends up saying “listen as long as I don't have to think about fucking Coach Julien” instead. He has no idea where that came from but yeah, instant mood killer as it turns out.

Bergy laughs at him though, open and fond.

“Man,” he says, “I love you but I really don't want to know more about that.”

Of course then he realizes what he said almost immediately and runs a hand through his face to hide his grimace.

“Fuck can we just shut up and go back to making out?”

It is different Brad supposes now that they are dating - or they will be in short order if Brad has anything to say about it - even if they said so many times as friends, but-

“Yes and I love you too,” he replies without missing a beat. It’s the truth. He wouldn’t tell Bergy this - not yet anyways - but when he looks inside there isn't a single cell in his body that isn't made of love and admiration for Bergy, who he is leaning down on to smoosh their faces together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading friends! Comments are what keep me going, and especially in these dark days when so much of my time is gobbled up by work. 
> 
> I can be convinced pretty easily to finish the half written epilogue to this where Bruce finds out and there are more shenanigans, if there is interest.
> 
> I am also on tumblr at @blindbatalex. Feel free to come say hi - I love talking to people about the Bruins and fic and fannish asks always make my day tbh.


	2. Chapter 2

**~ Epilogue ~**

“Brad, Patrice, take a seat,” Bruce says, disappointment heavy in his voice. Brad knew this day was coming, knows what he is going to say but- doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it. 

Doesn’t mean it isn’t unfair.

He feels weak. He hasn’t slept well and his limbs are heavy and he is sweating. It’s still hard to breathe.

“I must say I am disappointed in you boys,” Bruce continues and honestly who isn’t disappointed in Brad these days. “The team counts on you to lead by example - I count on you to lead by example and-” he gestures with his hands as if to say look at the state of you.

“We know,” Patrice says next to him. He is in just as bad shape, wants to be here just as little as Brad does and even though the whole thing is Brad’s fault he won’t say anything until they are out of here and alone, because that’s just who he is.

Bruce nods. He doesn’t want to be here either, Brad realizes, sitting as far away as he is - he doesn’t want to get _infected_.

“You don’t need me to tell you why it’s a terrible idea,” Bruce looks at Brad now. “You don’t need me to tell you you can’t afford anything that compromises your game, let alone what you did- and for Christ’s sake how did you not think about the media, about the shit storm that would happen - that _is_ happening - if you got caught? What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

Brad gets it. He regrets it too as much as it felt right at the time, just the thing they were supposed to do, but- give him a break also. 

They learned their lesson. They paid for their mistake and they know better now.

“We are sorry coach-” he starts before a coughing fit creates a mandatory timeout. Patrice passes him some water, rubs at his back, and picks up in his place.

“What Brad means is,” he says, “we get that jumping into freezing water to mark our anniversary was a terrible idea and we will go to a nice restaurant next year instead. We are sorry to miss out on games when the team needs us the most and we are exceptionally sorry that it got caught on camera.”

Bruce looks satisfied at that - as satisfied as he will be anyway - and lets them go, which thank fuck because Brad would like to lie back down now. It was very unfortunate that he didn’t account for the low tide when he dragged Bergy to jump into the harbor with him and how slippery and hard to climb the stairs out of the water are at night. The few beers they had didn’t exactly help either but yeah- his bronchitis and Bergy’s cold are more than enough of a lesson for them both.

*

Bergy asks him why he is smiling on the way back home, even though he looks miserable and according to Bergy seems running a fever again.

Brad wonders if he will make it weird if he tells Bergy what’s on his mind - what’s been on his mind since they left the Warrior Ice Arena. 

“It’s just,” he says, looking at the orange and red foliage of whatever few trees line up the street. “You said _next year_ , we should go out for dinner on our anniversary.” 

“If you throw me into the harbor again I swear to God I am-” Bergy stops midway. He must not have even realized what he said and judging by the smile that spreads across his face, he meant it anyway.

He takes Brad’s hand where it lies on the seat in between his own, says “I really will break up with you if you throw me into the harbor,” all heat gone from his voice now, the shake of his head _fond_. 

Brad scoots up to him and lays his head on Bergy’s shoulder. He would never.

Except maybe, in Halifax over the summer, for their one-and-a-half-year anniversary when the weather is nice and warm and the water refreshing and there are no sneaky phone cameras around. 

Next year.

He is pretty sure Bergy wouldn’t break up with him over that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I LIED IN LAST CHAPTER'S END NOTES SORRY skdjhfskjdhf


End file.
